Beach Babies
by Gilly.Flowers
Summary: Joanne pointed at him, uncurling a well-manicured finger from her glass to jab at the air in his general direction - That Kraft-ebbing case history subject lied through his teeth - always looking over her shoulder, breathing down her neck with his grossly adoring words and his revolting affection - They could have been happy together, lovers. They could have given each other STD's!


**A.N. Patti Lupone's Joanne has literally been stuck in my head for like, three months. And I finally decided to write a Company fic myself, since there is an unacceptable number of others in existence. Sondheim love! -Gillies**

_**((P.s. I'm gonna see Patti this May and I can't sleep I'm so excited what do I do help please)) **_

* * *

The low music from the retro juke-box was smooth and calming, and in the entire joint the only raucous was her idiotic husband and his college-fresh playmate.

Bobby was beside her, sitting on a three-person stiff-looking grey-purple couch, she reclining like a god on an also stiff, greyish with a tinge of purple cathedra, smoking and sipping. Larry behind them, in the far corner of the bar. Larry forgotten, at that moment.

Something abruptly occurred to her, and she pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, turning over to address her handsome companion.

''Did Sarah ask you to come to her party? You know, at the beach. Did you know she asked _me_?" Joanne pressed a hand to her chest, her cigarette wavering close to her face as if she were thinking on stuffing it back between her teeth again any second. "I didn't realize we were even friends.''

Bobbie's laugh and gentle, good-natured chiding brought on a clumsy smile from Joanne's cynical pout. ''Oh come on, Joanne. Be nice. Of course you two are friends.''

"Robbie you know I only stand those fools for you." Joanne rolled her eyes, sitting up straighter, as if being in a different position would help her get out what she was saying.

''Even - even when I tagged along to your birthday fiasco for Larry, and had to put up with the crazy shit of that ugly lot, it was never truly for him. You do know I only stand them now, to this day, for you, right baby? You know what I mean? You." Joanne pointed at him, uncurling a well-manicured finger from her glass to jab at the air in his general direction, then she took in her cigarette.

''Did you just call me ugly?'' Bobbie mumbled, his lips lopsidedly twisted in a boyish smirk.

"Never. I meant the other ones." Speaking without opening her jaw too far, Joanne's hand reached over and grasped his shoulder, squeezing briefly before she pulled it away. "Well, are you going?''

"Where?"

"To Sarah's beach party, Jesus fucking Christ Robert."

"Oh, yeah, yeah I'm going."

"Alright. See, that's all I needed to know." She had stood up to leave, leaning forwards to (show herself off) pat his cheek. "Call me tomorrow Robert darling." Pause, contemplation. "If you're still alive."

That Kraft-ebbing case history subject _lied _through his teeth.

Joanne sighed, irate with the sun that hurt her eyes even though her sunglasses were thick and black. And the ocean, or river, or swamp, was tossing up waves obnoxiously loud. She sat up in her chair, looking around the beach for Larry.

"Joanne are you done sulking?" Oh. There he was. Her husband bent down in front of her, smiling in that love-struck, awed way he had - smiling even bigger when she scowled in disgust - and he carefully pulled off her sunglasses. "The girls are wondering about you, all alone out here while everyone else is enjoying themselves at the pavilion. Sarah invited you for a reason, come join the party sweety."

"Don't call me that. Who do you think you are?" Joanne shifted around on the wooden panelling of the chair, grabbing her pack of smokes. Larry took them from her hands, his grin tightening into pity. For whom she didn't know. Or care. She didn't care.

She let Larry pull her to her feet, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. "You're so beautiful, and smart, and strong, and exciting. Smoking isn't the only thing that separates _you _from the lower forms, Jo."

The heat made her uncomfortable in her black clothes. The heat reddened her face, the heat rose tiny beads of sweat at her hairline and behind her ears, rose tears to her eyes. Larry stood in front of her, watching her swallow back what she would say was pride, but what he knew was deaf uncertainty provoked by her obtuse low-confidence.

After a long silence, Joanne blinked slowly, staring back at him with practised solemnity as she reached for the hand that held her smokes. "I would like a cigarette, Larry."

"Come to the party. Everyone's waiting for you. Robert -"

"I'm not going over to that madhouse until Rob gets here." She stated with conviction, shielding the little flame she summoned with her hand. Then, looking lost in sudden thought she added with less ardour, "He promised."

Joanne lit her cigarette, turning her back on her husband to take a long drag. And a heartbeat later she could hear his shoes sliding through the sand when finally he realized all she freaking wanted was to be alone.

Robert. What was he going to say about Rob?

Where was he, anyway? What could possibly be holding him up - oh. Perhaps the Goliath was blocking his doorway with her man-hands and her fat ass. Poor baby. What was wrong with that girl? Didn't she know women weren't supposed to be that tall? Didn't she know enough not to go out of her hold in the daylight, when people could see her?!

Maybe Sarah was right with that one - _dumb_.

God, if only she and Robbie had crossed paths before the whole hitching with Larry, she could have taken such good care of him. She could only imagine what it'd be like to have someone like him in her arms at night, she could fantasize only what his lips felt like against hers. And with Larry always looking over her shoulder, breathing down her neck with his grossly adoring words and his revolting affection, Joanne knew if her lustful thoughts - thoughts that somehow sometime had gone further than desire - would stay just that. Despite how annoying he could really be, Larry was... He deserved at least faith from her.

but oh, the flings they could have had together had they seen each other on the street between husband #2 and husband #3, or if they'd caught each other's eye from across a darkened, smoky bar. And they could have kissed, Bobbie allured by her womanliness, under her spell as she was always under his, and she could have opened her eyes to watch him kiss her with the devout of foolish youth. How exhilarating it could have been to not only see but to cause such beautiful ferocity. Then, in the desperation of the night, they probably could have done it in a bathroom, pressed hot against the crumby walls. She had still been nimble enough.

They could have been happy together, lovers. They could have given each other STD's!

...Where was her Goddamned husband? Wasn't it his one and only job to keep her from venturing away? Was he okay with her lustful thoughts of a boy half her age? Fucking _Goddamned _Larry had left her in the dirt, left her with nothing of his to cling to but a 'what if you did this?' as if that were enough of his many shitty charms to keep her from straying. Joanne seethed, sucking venomously at the butt end of her cigarette, trying to reel in the last of it all.

Just when she decided to leave, to maybe storm to _his _house and get that motherly giant out of his bed and make-_the shit_-out with him, her eyes lifted to see a lean body walking down the beach towards her.

"Hey Joanne, am I late?" He asked, having caught up only to find her slightly gape-mouthed and frozen. "Joanne?" Bobby laughed, soft as the sand beneath her feet, and waved a hand in front of her face. "Joanne. Stop staring at -"

"At your charisma, yeah yeah I know kid." She rushed, wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick, flustered hug. "You fucker, had us all waiting for nearly two hours. Don't speak, don't apologize, don't try your empty sorry's on me, Rob. Just come on and get me a Goddamned drink. The others are over there." She pointed vaguely towards the cheerful pavilion. Silhouettes were conga-lining around the deck, hoots and hollers and Guns 'N Roses rising into the evening sky.

Bobbie was drowned in an ocean of enthusiastic greetings and drunk-ish affection. And it irked somewhat that she was the only one - Bobby had gotten a few drinks in before-hand (Joanne had the nose of a truffle pig) - without a glass in her greedy possession. She clasped his coat arm and stole him away to the tropical styled bar, shoving him into a seat and sitting herself beside him.

"Where's Larry?" He asked, looking younger than his years, twirling cautiously in the round-about he'd created of the black stool.

"How should I know? That man's 'bout as still as a caged lark." To the bartender she barked, "A vodka stinger please."

"He's your husband, Joanne."

"Whose my husband?" She smirked inattentively at his soothing laughter.

"_Larry_. Larry's your husband."

Joanne waved dismissively, tossing the miniature pink umbrella from her cup and throwing the alcohol back.

"He should be your's, since you care about him so much." Joanne sent him a wink, her lips tightening in a seductive grin. "So what's your excuse, Robert darling? Why were you so late, huh?"

Bobby shrugged. Scoffed. "I was - Kathy and I went on - we went to this one park in the East-fifties, and... She's leaving to get married in Cape Cod with some asswipe she thinks'll do her some good."

Oh. Well fuck.

She studied the side of Bobby's face, squinting her eyes. For once conscious not of the exacerbated wrinkles that exploded from the small act on the outskirts of her expression. She flagged down the bartender and after passed him a drink, running her hand over his shoulder in a coy comfort.

''That girl doesn't know what she's missin'. You're way too good for her if she's dumb enough to -"

"_She's not dumb_, Joanne."

"...All I'm saying is...Never get married, Robbie. _Never_. Why should you?''

It was true what Larry had once said; a passing thought shared because the occasion allowed it, and in its absent-mindedness was bursting with blossoming exactness. While her and all the men and women she labelled passively as 'friends' grew old and grew _indefinitely _married, Bobbie had stayed the same. As charming, and as young, and as fully rested as ever. And she didn't want that to change, for his youth and his spunk was like a wind of fresh air smoothing her lungs after smoking innumerable cigarettes.

Joanne retreated back to her area, winking and snapping her fingers at him approvingly when he mumbled something and then nodded his head in drunk defeated acceptance. And Joanne drank some more.

''That's my boy,'' she said lowly, around her cup. A crude snort escaped her, jostling her head back in its sour derision, and she pointed lilthely at the circus act happening before them. With a precocious ease she had tilted the spotlight off herself and on to others whom could stomach the ill-attention. As she was always keen to do.

Bobby's mirth was then apt to pour, calm and clad in blissful happiness. And before she could swallow her mouthful of sweet wine he had slid from his seat and was off, weaving through the small crowd of company. She choked.

Joanne fought back the heat underneath her skin, but did nothing to stop the hateful scowl from spreading. Sarah and Susan and Peter encased Bobbie in touchy-feely conversation, Amy and Paul took the chance of a severed conga-line to do what looked like an ape's take on dirty dancing, and an excessively nodding David was passing a blunt over to Harry, with placid little Jenny standing beside. The dislike deepened, and she snatched her refilled glass out of the bartender's grasp like an agitated hawk.

She let back, her bent arm supporting her and her fingers draped over the edge, the bitter alcohol sloshing down her throat. She relaxed, the drowsy effects of drink beginning to dull the useless peripheral of her mind to a degree wherein she hadn't seen Larry sneak up on her until he was literally **on **her.

A soft, playful growl emitted from deep within his throat, vibrating against her neck as he kissed and nipped. The shout of surprise humiliated her, and she gave a mighty shove in retaliate. "Jesus Christ Larry! Rape someone else you ass, I'm not in the mood baby."

Larry plopped down in the chair next to her, grabbing her hand and lifting it to his mouth for a wet smooch. "Sorry Jo, it's nice to see you finally at the party."

"Yeah well," She fell silent, after a dreadfully thoughtful heartbeat she shifted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. With a friendly pat on his belly she muttered cynically, "I just couldn't keep myself away from _all_" she drew the word out, "this."

She felt Larry laugh beneath her, shaking her head until she had slipped forward into an uncomfortable position. By then, Joanne had caught Robert's eye.

With ardency she hadn't known herself to possess any longer, she reached up and kissed her husband, her hand warming on his cheek and her wined tongue sliding between his working lips. He always kissed back, and tonight was no difference; he pulled her closer, and eventually she pulled apart to jump into his lap. "Love you, babe," Joanne whispered, locking lips sooner than he would have liked for she didn't care to hear him say such a honest statement back to someone whom deserved none of it.


End file.
